Page 73 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

Cera hated that name.

“It won’t,” she swore, and pulled on her riding gloves.

* * *

It wasn’t an invasion. It was a scare tactic. A group of Welkian soldiers on horseback, camping on a ridgeline overlooking the earl’s land. The moment Raiden and Pinske slid below the clouds, the moment Raiden played a single note on his ocarina and Pinske released a warning shriek, the soldiers scattered.

Korvi followed them. Cera caught a glimpse of approval from Raiden’s eyes as they soared past the snowy owl – but Korvi wasn’t attempting to instill fear with his presence, nothing so human as to keep these soldiers from returning.

No, Korvi was scouting for another warbird.

“You think they have one?” she asked him, when Raiden and Pinske were far behind.

Korvi cawed softly, black eyes scanning the ground below as soldiers thundered back to their homeland and horses whinnied in terror, fleeing the predator overhead. After a few minutes of flying, when the horses were far away and the mountains shifted to foothills, a huge red-tailed hawk circled overhead.

It had no rider, but the warning was clear. Retreat. Now.

Korvi stopped his pursuit, flapping his wings in an attempt to remain stationary. Cera held on for dear life as the raven pivoted, angling back towards Dalet and the snowy owl cresting the horizon.

She watched the hawk analyze them, then fly further into Welk.

It didn’t move as a hawk normally would. It turned too abruptly, ignoring how the wind shifted its feathers. Rigid grace, puppeted by the same magic that controlled Pinske.

Cera set her jaw and rejoined Raiden in the skies.

* * *

They returned to the palace hours later, their bellies full from a feast provided by the Earl of Yal and his grateful militia. The earl knew how to cook potatoes, which was both a comfort and a curiosity. When they landed, Pinske ruffled her feathers and yet again tried to bend down to say hello to Cera. Korvi watched, and this time, Raiden didn’t intervene.

She petted the snowy owl’s hard beak. Pinske truly was a marvel, with sharp yellow eyes that stared into her soul. Cera smiled back, moving her hand to the bird’s soft facial feathers. The owl cooed, pivoting to give her better access.

“Remarkable,” Raiden said. They were standing at the entrance to the massive aviary, a huge platform with gates that overlooked the space’s interior. Below them, the palace gleamed with snow, and a pair of servants stood on fenced platforms at either side, waiting to close the gates behind Pinske.

Waiting to cage the beast, yet again.

Cera was done waiting. This escapade had been fun, but she had a new obligation now.

Her life’s work must continue.

She patted Pinske’s beak again and stepped back, watching as the owl straightened. For a moment, she thought the snowy bird would seize freedom, fly into the dark sky and vanish, but Raiden was too fast. He blew a few notes, almost a melody, and the owl slipped through the doorway and into the aviary instead.

Korvi jumped off the platform as the servants moved to close the gates. Cera didn’t stop him, and he wasted no time fleeing. Unlike a white owl, he truly did vanish against the inky sky, only visible by his wing flaps and the stars he blotted out.

Raiden signaled for the servants who’d locked Pinske in her aviary to give them some privacy. They descended from their platforms, bowing respectfully to the pair as they returned to the palace below.

For the second time, they were truly alone.

Cera faced Raiden, rubbing her arm. “I have a question.” It was a dark night with no moon, so she could barely see the angles of his face, his sharp cheekbones, his soft smile.

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing her cheek. “Anything, Cera.”

Anything.

“Have you ever tried communicating with Pinske instead of controlling her?”

Heat spread between them, and in the dim light, she could see his cheeks flushing. He pulled away, embarrassed. “It won’t work. I don’t have that level of skill.”

It wasn’t skill. It wasn’t a magical gene. It was trust.